


Restless World Like This Is

by blueskypenguin



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskypenguin/pseuds/blueskypenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nix has memories he'd like to forget, memories he'd gladly shove down and rarely revisit. Still, there is a growing handful of memories he can't afford to share, but can't bear to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless World Like This Is

* * *

1\. _Aldbourne, England_

He was leaning against the drywall, looking out over the rolling fields and cobbled streets of the charming little English town they had been using as a base for a few weeks now. Yes, Aldbourne had something of a charm to it - one that could make a man forget there was a war raging two hundred miles away, a war they were set to join any day.

But he supposed that it was quiet afternoons in the English countryside that they were fighting for in the first place.

He caught sight of Dick as he rounded the corner with a curious smile – highly suspicious behaviour as far as Nix was concerned – and he waved the lieutenant over. Dick was right on time for lunch, but Nix was hungry and he’d heard rumours of some particularly delicious pie on offer at the officers’ mess.

“What’s put you in such a good mood?” Nix asked as Dick approached. It wasn’t as though Dick had a great deal to smile about lately, not after leaving Easy for the whole court-martial debacle.

“Nothing in particular,” Dick shrugged, leaning against the drywall beside Nix. After a moment, he continued, though it was as if the two statements weren’t connected at all: “Sobel just drove past. He did _not_ look pleased.”

He knew what that was about, and it couldn’t be better news without Dick being made CO himself. He grinned mischievously and made sure Dick saw it. Sometimes, it was fun to use his position to gather battalion gossip for Dick’s consumption. Drop plans for Normandy – which he wasn’t even at liberty to think about, much less discuss, at this early stage – weren’t quite as entertaining. “When does Sobel ever look pleased?”

Dick asked mildly, “Have you heard anything?”

“Ah,” he waved a hand carelessly, “I may have. Perks of the position, you know.” He continued to smirk and said no more, waiting for Dick to rise to the bait.

He wasn’t disappointed, though Dick seemed happy to play along, and wasn’t quite as frustrated with Nix’s playful demeanour as many may have expected. It was like Dick had infinite patience with Lewis Nixon’s behaviour – quite a novelty in Nix’s world. Maybe that footlocker stash would go down better than he’d thought.

“And?”

“Reassignment,” Nix relished the word, spreading his hands as if to map it on a banner. He was thinking letters three feet high, in obnoxiously bright paint. Perhaps he’d even orchestrate a farewell parade. “He’s going to be heading up a flight school at Chilton Foliat, just down the road from here.”

“That’s...” Dick didn’t finish. He frowned, “Who’s replacing him?”

“Scuttlebutt says Meehan out of Baker Company, but there’s no official word on that yet.”

Nix watched as Dick smiled, clearly relieved. He knew Dick’s reassignment back to Easy would come down any minute now that Sobel was out of the way, but he knew just as well that it wasn’t his own fate Dick was worried about – no, all he cared about was that Easy would be going to war with a capable commander, even one who has been replaced last minute, and one who wasn’t going to get them all killed straight off the bat.

If pushed, Nix would admit he was pretty overjoyed too – Sobel might have been a genius, but he was a royal pain in the ass.

Dick turned away from Nix’s knowing scrutiny, still smiling as he stared out over the green fields of the Wiltshire countryside.

“So,” Nix pointed the way to the mess rather unnecessarily and they began walking, side-by-side, just like always, “Are you going to get your non-coms a gift? Because that was a brilliant move, though I have to say it was a little stupid and _a lot_ reckless...”

“I just hope it’s not a habit forming.”

Nix laughed, “Wishful thinking, my friend.”

* * *

2\. _Outside Nuenen, Holland_

Dick was silhouetted against the fiery horizon, helmet in hand. “They’re bombing Eindhoven,” he said hollowly.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“Yeah.” Nix focussed on the bombs continuing to fall on the town which had welcomed them all so happily only days before. So much for the supposed Allied intelligence; Operation Market Garden was going down the pan faster than they could stop it.

And God, he’d almost died today.

He kept staring out at the orange sky, pushing down a laugh at the horrible irony of it, like the town was still jubilant with their independence.

No, they wouldn’t be celebrating.

Dick turned and walked back toward him. “Come on, Nix,” he cajoled reasonably, “We’ll dig in for the night...” If Dick had planned to say anything else, he didn’t get it out. There wasn’t much to say, really.

Nix met Dick’s eyes and the other man’s expression was soft. When Dick raised an eyebrow, Nix shrugged and stood, turning away from Eindhoven. “They won’t be waving so many orange flags at us tomorrow.”

He moved past Dick and led the way from the road, down to a cluster of foxholes and to the couple of discarded packs which they’d left to mark theirs. It wasn’t like they’d have much time to sleep - they’d be moving out shortly after dawn, moving on to continue this seemingly-doomed mission through Holland.

Christ, he really needed a drink.

He set down his dinged helmet and his M1, and took off his pack before jumping down onto the soft earth. His pack made for a decent enough pillow, and he lay staring up at the sky.

He’d almost died.

He could remember the high-pitched whine of the bullet – probably almost indistinguishable then over the sound of shots, impacts and shouts, but it eclipsed almost all other sounds in his memory.

All but one: Dick’s panicked call as he fell to the ground.

He remembered the sky, cloudy with scant patches of blue. He remembered Dick’s face, an expression he never wanted to see, never wanted to see ever again. He remembered the gravel beneath his hands and, after crawling to the safety of the tank, the metal against his back.

And now he had a clear night sky, the low hum of conversation from the battalion spread out along either side of the road, and a still-beating heart.

At the corner of his vision, Dick was removing his own webbing and the air barely stirred as he slid into the foxhole beside Nix.

He listed to the sounds of the earth, of the war machine stalled. He smelled the fresh air, the scent of rubble dust and a fire-fight a figment of his imagination. He felt the warmth and strength of the man lying beside him in the ground, and felt the hand against his hip that surely looked casual and inconsequential; Nix knew it was Dick’s way of ensuring Nix was still there at all.

He drifted off to sleep, his senses taking everything in, knowing he was one lucky son of a bitch.

* * *

3\. _Schoonderlogt, Holland_

Nix was careful to show his face at the post-rescue celebrations, but after an hour he slipped out of the barn. Few people would notice and fewer would miss him – the beer and whatever spirits the men could scrounge had been flowing fast and strong, and everyone was enjoying the respite. Any other time, he’d have joined in, but his billet was calling.

Or rather, Dick’s billet was calling. Nix had other plans for the night – though he hadn’t shared that with the two Brits he’d had to rebuff in the last hour, one of whom was Dobie of all people and wouldn’t Dick just love to be proved right there...

The light in the attic of the farmhouse he and Dick were occupying was still on, but as he crossed the courtyard he saw a silhouette appear briefly in the window. Dick clearly lingered for a moment, then moved away.

The light went out, and Nix smiled.

He let himself in the front door, passed his own bed on the second floor and headed straight for the attic. He knocked once but the door was open; he locked it behind himself. He was a little noisy on the stairs, but the house was empty – that was sort of the point; he had no need to disguise himself here, now.

Dick was still at his desk, a lamp lighting the pages of his journal as he wrote. He leaned against the foot-board of the bed, watching as Dick finished up, closed the journal and capped his pen.

“Easy having a good time?”

“The best,” Nix folded his arms. “Harry’s three sheets to the wind, swapping Normandy stories with a _left-tennant_ ,” he rolled his eyes, “who seems to take great pleasure in correcting our terminology. I saw Malarkey, Muck and Luz setting up a card game about a half hour ago so they’re gonna be ecstatic or inconsolable by morning, and I had to regretfully decline two offers of bed-warming – one from a very unsubtle red devil lieutenant and one from Colonel Dobie.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed, “I’d say I’m surprised, but...”

“Yeah, yeah, you told me so,” he shrugged, walking around the desk. “Their loss, and all that.” Nix braced himself on the desk with one hand, and on the back of Dick’s chair with the other as he leaned down to press his lips to Dick’s. The first kiss was soft and chaste, and Nix pulled back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Dick replied lowly. When Nix leaned down again, he dove right in, tongue slipping alongside Dick’s with easy familiarity.

He knew he was being a horrible tease but he couldn’t help himself, his good mood and the anticipation was bubbling through him. He pulled away again. “How was your day, honey?”

Dick tried to follow him up but he was a disadvantage in the chair, boxed in by Nix’s arms. He glared, “Nix. I’ve been dealing with paperwork all day. All _week_. I haven’t had you in bed for days.”

“God, paperwork makes you cranky,” Nix said gleefully, as he stepped back and allowed Dick the space to stand up. Dick turned off the lamp and they moved away from the window, taking care with the practicalities of their situation before they were too carried away with each other to bother.

Dick had taken off his boots already, probably had sat at his desk in his clean socks all evening just because he could; Nix leaned once again against the foot-board and made quick work of his laces. While he set his boots to one side, Dick was pulling down the blankets and sheets of the bed. It was too easy to turn and pull him in by the fabric of his uniform shirt, to slide his hand up into Dick’s hair as they kissed.

They made quick work of each other’s coarse uniform jackets and trousers, the typical fumbling that came with it just reminding Nix that this was something real, that this was happening. Sometimes he just had to remind himself.

“Come on, Lew,” Dick coaxed as his attention wavered.

He pushed Dick down into the mattress, mouthing at his collarbone. He broke away long enough to pull Dick’s vest over his head, the dog tags clinking back into place on his chest, and he chucked the clothing to the side – Dick’s stuff to the left, his to the right; the only way to be sure they wouldn’t be caught out in a hurry to dress.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Dick threw Nix’s vest down with perfect aim, and pushed his underwear down off his hips.

Nix moved down Dick’s body and kissed the pale skin over his hips as the other man’s briefs joined the items on the floor. Dick’s hard cock lay against his stomach and Nix smirked, “Me too, specifically...”

He nuzzled at Dick’s balls and sent up thanks to whatever cosmic power determined their access to showers at this stage of their campaign – it made this an altogether delicious prospect. He curled his fingers loosely around the other man’s erection, stroking lightly and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the skin of Dick’s inner thighs, taking in the sounds of Dick’s ragged breathing and the hitch every time Nix swiped his thumb by the head.

Dick was always very quiet, but it didn’t take much to learn what the subtle differences meant. For instance, when Nix licked his lips and wrapped them around the head of Dick’s cock, the twisting of Dick’s hands in the bed-sheet and the sharp intake of breath were signs of _oh my god, yes please, so good_.

You know, if Dick ever took the Lord’s name in vain.

It was an interpretation, and Nix could put his spin on it all he liked.

“Lew,” Dick breathed out shakily, groaning quietly as Nix just held his cock in his mouth and flicked his tongue intermittently against the ridge there. “Lew.”

With his hands holding Dick’s hips, Nix waited for him meet his eyes before he winked and slid his mouth down, taking in as much as he could and relaxing his throat.

God, he loved the sounds Dick made, the little whines as he got closer to orgasm, the way he would forget to breath out every few seconds, the way those breaths became shallower and shallower until –

One of Dick’s hands was freed from the cruel twisting tug it had on the bed-sheet and he gripped Nix’s shoulder as he came with a long sigh, a slight keen to it if you were listening.

And Nix was definitely listening.

He kept swallowing until Dick whimpered, sensitivity becoming too much and Nix pulled away. He pressed sticky kisses up Dick’s torso until he met his lips and Dick tried to co-ordinate his boneless limbs to hold Nix close. As Nix’s own erection slid against Dick’s thighs, sweat providing all the slide and friction he needed, he kissed Dick lazily in counterpoint. He came panting into Dick’s mouth, with Dick’s fingers digging into his hips, holding him as close as humanly possible, and Dick’s name the only thought in his head.

The sweat and semen slowly began to cool on their bodies, and Nix frowned in distaste. He rolled away long enough to pull a dish-rag or towel of some description from the floor and wiped them clean, before discarding it over his shoulder. As long as it didn’t land on their clothes, he didn’t really much care where it landed. He pulled some of the blankets up to cover them both, and they settled with Dick lying on his back and Nix’s head on his shoulder, a leg slung over Dick’s.

The revellers in the barn could just be heard, but in the attic it was calm and quiet; Dick played idly with Nix’s hair while Nix listened to Dick’s breath evening out in time with his own. Soon enough they’d have another go – Nix hadn’t tracked down a safe and highly recommended gun lubricant for nothing (it had, in fact, cost him a bottle of Vat) – but for now, they slept.

* * *

4.. _Haguenau, France_

Harry walked off to join Speirs and the newly-minted First Lieutenant Lipton, and as Nix joined Dick, he tried not to curse aloud as he caught Harry offering his hipflask around out of the corner of his eye.

Damn, there’d be none left by the end of the night.

Thank god they were being pulled off the line in the morning; he might have a chance to restock.

He stood by as Dick dismissed the improbably green West Pointer and as the kid saluted them both and left, Nix wondered if they’d ever been that... young.

Huh. He could barely remember it, and sure as hell didn’t feel it.

It was coming up on two years since he’d been on American soil.

With the kid gone, Dick turned to him and quirked an eyebrow – an eye-roll intended but never followed through – which Nix knew was the only outward sign of exasperation with their lieutenant turn-over rate Dick would allow himself to show. At least it was command’s decision, giving the latest in the line of life-long desk jockey officers the front-line experience they needed to justify their rank advancement, and not death, or even nervous breakdown.

Easy’s been there, done that, thought Nix - and good riddance to Norman Dike.

“Shame,” Nix said honestly, “The kid had spark.”

“He’s not that much younger than us, Nix,” Dick put his hand on Nix’s arm and guided him toward the other officers.

He made a face, “Christ, Dick, I feel like an old man already.” Something flashed over Dick’s face, something almost mischievous, and it was an expression he hadn’t seen in a while and certainly only a handful of times in public. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, and Dick smiled innocently back.

“Harry, don’t you go drinking all my Vat,” Nix warned, looking away reluctantly to see Harry taking a long swig.

Though considering the readily apparent moon-eyes Speirs and Lip were making at each other while they talked, it was no wonder Harry needed the help. Hell, he and Dick probably weren’t helping either but at least Harry was used to ignoring them. This was an almost entirely new development.

“As if you don’t have more stashed away,” Harry scoffed.

“Well you’re just in luck,” Nix ducked into one of the low cupboards in the office of this house they’d taken as their billet and pulled out one pristine, unopened bottle of Vat 69. Harry made a grab for it, and while Nix managed to pull back his hip-flask, he managed to keep the bottle from the lieutenant’s grabby hands. “Ah, ah, ah, this isn’t just for you!”

Harry pouted, but apparently saw the point. He stepped aside and tapped Lip on the shoulder, ignoring the glare Speirs sent his way for interrupting.

Nix held out the bottle to Lipton. “Congratulations again, Lip. Savour it, and don’t let these two drunkards wrestle it from you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lip smiled, even as Nix protested the honorific and he heard Dick snort at the irony of Nix calling someone a drunkard.

“Good, now I’ve got a report to write,” he turned away to find Dick scrutinising him. “How many valiant German soldiers should I have Easy surprised by in their second patrol, requiring deadly force? Four? I want to do our boys justice.” He was positively gleeful.

Lipton, Speirs and Harry went back to their conversation, and Nix walked out of the office room of battalion CP, past George and a couple of Privates, and up the stairs to the rooms they were sleeping, working and fabricating patrol reports in. Dick followed, “Try and reign in the fantastical detail, Lew,” he warned, running his fingers through his hair. “They got in, they were fired upon by vigilant German officers and left empty handed.”

“You’re no fun sometimes, Dick,” Nix’s wide smile took the sting out of his words.

“We’re submitting a fraudulent report,” he stressed as he closed the door behind himself. “Let’s not draw more attention than absolutely necessary.”

Nix wasn’t going to let Dick spoil his good mood – they had a couple of beds, a room to themselves, friends around them and they were coming off the line tomorrow. He pulled off his scarf as sat on one of the twin beds that was, in theory, his, and started unlacing his boots. “Don’t worry, I’m good at subtle.”

“You are not good at subtle, Nix,” Dick refuted with a rueful smile.

“You take that back,” he gasped, in mock shock, “I am an _intelligence_ officer, M-my dear Captain Winters.” Damn, Nix, he berated himself, don’t spoil that surprise before you have the oak leaves to hand over. “I’m _trained_ to be subtle.”

“Like a brick.”

One boot went flying a few carefully projected inches from Dick’s head.

Dick grinned, “You missed.”

“There’s another where that came from,” Nix warned, sliding the second boot off his foot.

“And when you run out of boots?”

The boot was set down and Nix stood and approached Dick slowly. “Well I guess I’ll just have to throw myself at you, Dick.”

“Oh, so it’s going to be like that is it?”

* * *

5\. _Göring’s basement, Obersalzberg, Austria_

It was a love letter in ten thousand bottles.

The clatter of his aviators as they hit the floor of Göring's personal liquor collection - now property of one Captain Lewis Nixon, 506th's 2nd Battalion S-3 - echoed around the concrete bunker and he felt his knees go physically weak.

_"I've got a present for you."_

Dick was saying something, but it took a few seconds for his brain to translate the words against the white-noise backdrop of awe, confusion and not a little lust. Sure, he'd share and let each company get a truck-load; Easy would get first - well, second, after Nix's - pick, of course.

Hell, he'd get Easy down here, barricade the doors and let them have what they liked until sunrise just so long as Dick knew how much he appreciated this gift first.

"Happy VE Day," Dick was smiling, smiling more than Nix had ever really seen him smile in one go since Normandy, pillow fights after pungent wake-up calls in Holland included. It was sunny and delighted and God, did he even know, did he understand _at all_ what he'd just given Nix?

"Yeah," Nix forced out, looking between Dick and the bottles, wondering where to start on the collection, wondering where to start with expressing his thanks to Dick.

But Dick turned to leave and Nix panicked, turning his back on the shelves. "Troopers, I need to negotiate with the Major. Take position back at the entrance and don't let anyone in until one of us says so."

O'Malley - maybe O'Brien? O'Shaunessy? Whatever, thought Nix, there are more important things right now than the lucky replacement's name, like Dick's raised eyebrow and amused curiosity. The Private nodded genially with a crisp 'yes, sir' and both he and the other guard trotted off without a glance back.

A captain, even one with a half-drunk champagne bottle in hand, could still give orders today and not be questioned.

"Nix?"

Turning his back on the shelves, Nix gravitated toward his friend. "Christ, Dick, this... Have you _any idea_...”

Dick almost shrugged. Nix could see the slight tension in those broad shoulders, the man was always uncomfortable with personal scrutiny (rather than professional: Dick could take anything the army threw at him, from rebellious non-coms to alcoholic intelligence officers).

Nix couldn’t find the words. It was the champagne, Hitler’s finest (maybe not Goering’s, _ten thousand bottles_ ) or the moment or the accumulation of a war’s worth of experiences...

Calm descended. He held up a finger in a gesture for Dick to just _wait a second dammit_ , and he set the sloshing, almost-spent bottle of bubbly on the bar in the centre. He took in the scope of the shelves and turned back to his best friend, his lover, and one of few good things to come out of this whole damn Fortress Europa clusterfuck of a war. Dick’s head was cocked, shoulders still tense and eyes fixed on Nix –

\- Nix had never felt more drunk, more sober, more out-of-control and alert at the helm. He stepped forward right up into Dick’s space, and though he’d always been welcome there, it seemed different now, somehow.

This wasn’t about relieving tension, nor was it about taking time to stop and smell the roses.

They’d had moments of clarity in Toccoa and Aldbourne, and stolen their first kisses in Normandy. They’d taken their time on the road through Holland and though they’d hit a rough patch once Dick made XO of second battalion, they’d rushed their renewed touches against frozen skin in Bastogne. They’d drifted apart off the line and then Germany hadn’t been kind to Nix, but if he’d learned anything at all from this war it was that some hurts can be fixed - and they were paratroopers, dammit. They were made for getting out of tough spots.

But this... this was something else; something beautiful, perfect and something he was totally unworthy to receive.

They didn’t exactly have time for all Nix wanted to do in that moment, but as he curled a hand around the back of Dick’s neck and brought the man’s smiling lips to his, Nix decided he’d make time while he could.

 

~


End file.
